


The Inversion

by TOPschair



Category: AOMG Entertainment, Show Me the Money (Korea TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 20:38:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7479147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TOPschair/pseuds/TOPschair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This silence right now is the opposition of two forces, eye to eye and with the flow of electricity in between, just like they portray in cartoons - and Sunghwa eventually gives up, accepting his defeat. And this is when something sharp is suddenly thrown right at Kiseok's heart: Sunghwa understands."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Inversion

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [inversion](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/213222) by blitzar.. 



> Many thanks to blitzar. (the original author) who kindly gave the permission to publish this, and also to santokki_sandara for the edit. 
> 
> All the song references are from "Who you". 
> 
> Enjoy!

Kiseok feels as if he can hear the rustle of every denim fold and the creak of the leatherette of the other’s jacket, but that’s impossible – they are in a club, and the music is rambling so loudly that it seems like just in a few seconds, a revolting, hot stream of blood will slide out of his ear to his neck and all the way behind his collar, tickling and leaving a red stain on the clean white shirt. 

Sunghwa brushes his back against the wall - the wall that they were trying to find for about eternity, when the dance floor seemed infinite and their legs didn’t offer any support; when they needed something to hold on to, to lean on, to not lose themselves. Kiseok undresses him right there, unzips his jacket, pulling the zipper so hard that it is threatening to fall off, but Sunghwa doesn’t help at all - just twitches a little and doesn’t even think that he may be causing some discomfort, that bastard. They are so close now that just one more rasping sigh of the beat can shake the air around them, and make them become one flesh, something whole, indivisible, unite, where the cells of their bodies will break apart and mix together, never separating again. It’s hot between them, even though the air conditioner above on the ceiling is working at its full capacity, moving around hot, stuffy air that dangerously lacks oxygen.

Sunghwa leans towards him, allowing unruly hands to do whatever they want, but Kiseok is not willing to allow the same thing to happen to himself. Instead of cupping Sunghwa’s cock under his jeans, he grabs his neck, putting a little pressure on the side of it, making him shudder when the fingers press on the nerve and the impulse runs through his body. Sunghwa moans. He is actually used to keeping everything under control, himself included – he is definitely a psycho – but now he moans so lamentably and looks so helplessly that Kiseok wants to carry on, carry on and on until the world burns or until stroboscopes stop giving out short bright flashes, lighting up the crowd, someone’s hand with lots of bracelets, waterfalls of dyed hair, sparkling beads on some girl’s top or perhaps them, completely and fully, as they are not even trying to hide from the crowd.

Kiseok feels like no one can see them; correction – he doesn’t even hope that no one can see them, but he personally doesn’t see anyone, as if everything which is not Sunghwa is the blind zone of his already damaged eyesight. Sunghwa catches him, pulls his belt in one nervous move, while Kiseok is also trying to get the iron plaque out of the leather fetters. Damn it, why are there so many locks, why is there so much embellishment, why, for fuck’s sake, does he have so much clothes on – since they both knew that they will get naked at some point that night?..

“No,” Sunghwa moans right in Kiseok’s ear, but then stops and speaks clearly and strictly: “Fuck, hyung, no. You know that.”

Kiseok wants to laugh. He pushes closer against Sunghwa, sticks out his tongue and licks the other’s neck, removing salty sweat and all the distrust that dances underneath thin skin. 

“Do you want me?” he asks directly, immediately feeling how Sunghwa’s whole body freezes, as if hanging on a string made from the sound of that voice, a string that emphasises “me” - that hellish “me,” such an English cliché – where even a fool would distinguish that “to fuck” between “do you want” and “me”, that one verb that both of them lack so much. 

Sunghwa sucks in air with such a look on his face, as though he has just had a sip of quicksilver, or a mix of scattered sounds that somehow arrange themselves inside him and now can be breathed out with this calm and harmonic:

“Oh, fuck, you can’t even imagine just how much I do.”

Just when his eyes get hooked on the other’s hungry, wanting, demanding stare, Kiseok thinks that as he agrees, he will be allowing something like mercy fuck - or he would have thought that if he hadn’t been in love with Sunghwa for so long and so hopelessly. Hopelessly, because there is absolutely no hope to get rid of this. 

Kiseok wants something dirty because Sunghwa is clean, and he also wants this to cause pain because this damn bastard tormented him with his stares on that fucking show and away from it – but why would it be painful for Kiseok then?.. He gets completely confused in those cause-and-effect evaluations and decides to tell them to eat ass, although that is where Sunghwa will soon fuck him if he has enough – what do people usually need to have enough of for this?.. Determination, courage, impudence? This is some fucked up shit, Kiseok thinks. Some fucked up shit, he agrees with himself. 

“Well, I will let you then. Okay, you know. Okay.”

Kiseok really tries hard for this to sound indifferent, as if he is doing this all the time, but damn Sunghwa seems to see everything, even what he is not supposed to see – otherwise why are his eyes so full with understanding? Kiseok immediately wants to strike his face to wipe off that expression, but he just offered himself to him, and therefore such a move would be rather strange. And they still have to kiss, and Kiseok doesn’t like the taste of blood: that’s for teenagers, and they are definitely not children anymore.

Abruptly, Sunghwa moves forward, holding his cheek against Kiseok’s cheekbone, and exhales through his nose a bit too often, although clearly trying to even out his irregular breathing. His lips touch the corner of Kiseok’s, and his breath sends icy tempests through the skin. It seems like he is whispering something – something like “I will try”, “I promise” and “hyung”, but Kiseok tries not to listen: yeah, sure, as if he needs that nonsense. 

During those few, um, maybe minutes, which they spend walking from the dance floor towards VIP rooms, Kiseok fails to convince himself that he didn’t just think about how he wants for all rooms to be in use, so that they would have to do it right on the red carpeted floor between the closed doors, hearing nothing but strangers’ moans. And how would his knees look like after this. But, of course, they are lucky, and on one of the knobs there is clearly no vulgar label about cheap sex that copywriters came up with, so Sunghwa uses his shaky hands to slide the card in the mechanism next to the door. A click of the lock, which is heard after a few seconds of waiting - as wireless connection completes the transfer and sends the signal back - sounds like angels’ chorus to them.

They obviously don’t have any time to get to the bed. Sunghwa puts on the door knob a very eloquent label “do not enter” (Kiseok would laugh, since entering would definitely be accomplished here, and more than once) because he wants to do everything according to the rules in order to avoid being disturbed, and immediately pushes the older against that closing door. They finally kiss – desperately, heatedly, until it burns, as though they are teens again, just with better skills and experience. Every kiss stays on their lips and their tongues, and Kiseok thinks that even bitter black coffee that he will drink tomorrow morning will not wash that taste away. Everything inside is viscous, melting like a piece of butter left outside in hot weather, refusing to be assembled back together. Sunghwa kisses in a way that it seems like he really wants it all, and “you can’t even imagine how much”.

Right before taking off his jeans, Sunghwa takes out a square packet from the back pocket, and Kiseok suddenly gets furious. It happens before he can even think; under his eyelids there is nothing but red fog, and he harshly hits the other’s hand, knocking off the condom, so that the younger will, for fuck’s sake, understand, and read between the lines his “I am going to trust you with my ass, but you still think that I won’t trust you with THIS?!” But his anger becomes much wilder, really imprints on his conscience as if by an avalanche, when he reads in those serious eyes this wretched, abominable and traitorous “I know for a fact that you were the only one to fuck me, but whether you fucked anyone else – that’s what I don’t know”. This silence right now is the opposition of two forces, eye to eye and with the flow of electricity in between, just like they portray in cartoons - and Sunghwa eventually gives up, accepting his defeat. And this is when something sharp is suddenly thrown right at Kiseok's heart: Sunghwa understands.

Sunghwa unbuttons the two top buttons of Kiseok’s shirt, but then he decides to abandon it and just pushes the battered material up – at this moment in time, he just can’t afford to wait. His own jacket rests somewhere in the opposite corner, jeans are lying next to their feet, his damp t-shirt sticks to his body. Kiseok shifts his legs, taking off his trousers, and then does something unbelievable, for him and his pride – he just turns around, face towards the door, wordlessly saying “take this, otherwise I will outplay the last round, and there won’t be a check point for you to save it all and keep the high rank.” Sunghwa crumples Kiseok’s shirt, caresses his stomach while pushing his chest against his wide back, and, as he buries his nose right in damp hair on the back of Kiseok’s head, Kiseok can almost feel like something is fizzing on Sunghwa’s lips, something childish, like “hyung, I don’t know how.”

Kiseok knows for sure that Sunghwa doesn’t need a hint, he just thinks it’s a shame that they don’t have anything to ease the pain, and that is why, when younger’s fingers, moist from saliva, slide inside his body, he invisibly winces and leans his burning forehead on the wooden surface of the door. Pride keeps biting him from the inside – woof! Sunghwa is younger and more fragile, woof! it’s you who should fuck him, woof! that’s not right – but Kiseok doesn’t listen, he, goddammit, loves this fucking producer, and all those boundaries can go fuck themselves. 

“Hyung, can I?” Sunghwa is omnipresent, he tries to touch every bit of Kiseok’s body, every bit of his open skin; he exhales with sibilation and wheezes, winces as his black long fringe covers his eyes – why the heck would it cover his eyes, when he needs to see, he has to see the whole of Kiseok, from head to toes, all of him, so open and ready for everything?

Kiseok laughs quietly so that the younger won’t hear it, wipes off the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, engraving his whole head into it, and whispers: 

“I am not in a rush” - because he is, let’s be honest, scared. Well, maybe not scared, but a little afraid, even though his head buzzes with immutable “he is not going to hurt you”. 

But he does – and does so straight away; Kiseok bites his lip and screws up his eyes as soon as the younger enters: although Sunghwa is slow, this is still all too fast, too unfamiliar and – yes – unpleasant, but he immediately murmurs into Kiseok’s ear:

“That’s it… I will now do it all – for you… whatever you want…”, and that (isn’t it funny?) helps him to relax.

Kiseok’s eyelashes stick together, and he tries to convince himself that this isn’t due to tears - because what kind of 32-years-old man would cry there like a girl? (“The exact same one that would offer his ass to 29-years-old Sunghwa, because isn’t that foolish”, prompts him his waspish conscience). He thrusts backwards, grabs Sunghwa’s hand - holds it and doesn’t let go – and breathes heavily, so heavily that all the sounds from other rooms are being cut off. Someone feels really good over there, and someone else may feel even better, but who on earth would feel better than Sunghwa, who finally got what he wished for so eagerly, who keeps moaning – short and low, and whose free hand clings at the other’s shoulder as he places kisses without any order, just anywhere he could reach. Kiseok senses damp kisses on his neck, under his hair, on his cheek, and he wants to turn himself inside out as he starts to feel good – not because of what is happening on the inside, but just in general…

“Are you feeling good, hyung?” Is Sunghwa reading his thoughts? He is so helpless even when he tops, lacking confidence for whatever reason, and Kiseok wants to reply “did you completely lose your mind, asking that”, spite it out in his face, but instead simply decides to share his confidence: 

“Oh please, fuck me forever or never,” and he is amused just because this phrase goes so well with what is happening at the moment; he already witnessed how these lines wrecked Sunghwa before, as he wanted this, wanted to the point until his palms were getting constantly damp – until his mind had nuclear bombs blowing up and mushroom clouds growing. And it was impossible to touch, all because of the cameras, those damn cameras everywhere.

Sunghwa moans resignedly, as if understanding that there is no escape from this now, and Kiseok feels a sharp impulse of pleasure striking all the way through his body – so he shudders and lets his tight muscles relax, giving himself fully to other’s hands. But he doesn’t want to stop teasing, even though he is done for as soon as Sunghwa’s harsh thrusts become unbearable, making him see white circles behind his eye lids. So Kiseok bends a little, leaning on the door more comfortably, and states as if in secret: 

“I’m all yours,” so that Sunghwa’s knees would go weak as well, and his legs won’t hold him, too. Kiseok’s erection is the one of a teenager during puberty, and he feels like jacking off until he gets bloody blisters on his palms – to get rid of this tension, of this viscous feeling of dissatisfaction and of that familiar sense of tingling that streams via tingling nerves towards the groin.

“Fuck, hyung…” Sunghwa also bites his lip, mirroring the movement – somehow, Kiseok sees him, perhaps with his inner eye, as he gets himself into that web, denying himself a chance to escape – because the other’s arms are all around him, that foreign hand right on his cock: squeezes, presses, makes it even more painful and – this is crazy! – even more pleasant. 

“Everything’s okay,” he reassures in a shaky voice, although surely he himself is as far from being calm as he is from the closest black hole - which sucked in all of his self-control back when Sunghwa looked at his eyes or touched him for the first time. Was that long ago? Or not? When? It seems to Kiseok that a thousand years and a few human lives had passed between the moment when Jaebom slapped his shoulder, saying “now, meet Gray”, and this exact second, when Gray hammers himself into Kiseok’s body with ecstatic ferocity - so that an invisible line of horizon shifts up and down, as if being lifted by the sea waves, and the view is distorted to a fish-eye prospective.

“Nothing is fucking okay,” states Sunghwa in a serious voice. “Nothing.”

And he is right – he clings to Kiseok’s body so hard that red marks are left after the greedy fingers, and comes inside him, seasoning his overflowing pleasure with a plangent “m-m-m” that is lost between the older’s shoulder blades. Kiseok didn’t get enough, he thrushes about, folds his palms into fists – being unable to understand what the fuck just happened and why he feels such conflicting things at the same time: as if he is simply beautiful, and had also been used to such extent that he may as well throw himself away at the closest landfill and just cease to exist. Sunghwa brushes his nose against Kiseok’s neck and helps to finish off a few last hand moves, up until the point when Kiseok bites on his own wrist to prevent himself from moaning out loud. His head is spinning round, his knees are shaking and he can throw away his shirt without a second thought because there is definitely no way to repair it; the only thing that keeps buzzing in his head now is emptiness and thoughtlessness.

Kiseok wants for Sunghwa to stay silent, he feels so weird that he doesn’t want to hear anything but younger’s irregular breathing, even if Sunghwa would suddenly start making those stupid jokes or philosophical speeches – the ones he comes up with after suffering from the lack of inspiration or shortages in good beats. 

But it seems like he can no longer read Kiseok’s thoughts, at least not in a way the older would want him to – so Kiseok just stubbornly purses his lips when Sunghwa breaths out this short and off topic “wow” - in his awkward, childish and incapable attempt to ease the tension.

Kiseok spits out angrily: 

“Go to hell,” but when Sunghwa hugs him, pressing himself so tightly that his lips can count the pulse on that jumping carotid artery, he realises that if he were to be given a chance to outplay everything that just happened, he would have never switched to “Hate u” from that dropped “I’m all yours”.


End file.
